


Hurt/Comfort Prompt Challenge

by SilenceIsGolden15



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autistic Keith (Voltron), Autistic Pidge | Katie Holt, Bedside Vigils, Bullying, Captured, Cooking, Crying, Electrocution, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Fantastic Racism, Friendship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Head Injury, Hugs, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Massage, Memories, Nightmares, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Tranquilizers, collection, tags will update as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: Another collection (because I lack self control) of hurt/comfort prompt requests from my tumblr.





	1. Misery Loves My Company

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, if you want to request more prompts you can find the list on my tumblr @arwenride.

The hallways of the Castle were always quiet at this time of day. After training, when they were all showered and clean and had applied the healing salve to their new bruises, but before they all had to gather for dinner. Those three or four hours where everyone could do their own thing. They were Keith’s least favorite hours.

Shiro, depending on how good or bad training had been, would either go to his room or discuss strategy with Allura. Coran would disappear into the guts of the Castle to find something else to fix. Hunk and PIdge would usually gather in the common room to tinker with whichever project they’d come up with. Lance was fifty-fifty-- he’d either go talk to Blue in her hangar or join Pidge and Hunk. 

And Keith? He didn’t know what to do with himself. The first couple of weeks he’d go back to the training deck during downtime, until Shiro had decided he trained too much and started locking the door. 

After that it was nebulous. He didn’t like being alone, not after living in that shack for a year, but he didn’t want to annoy the others.

Shiro needed time to himself on his bad days. He didn’t want to get in Coran’s way and screw something up. He was interested in what Pidge and Hunk were working on, but was very conscious of the fact that he hadn’t been invited to join them. As for Lance… well…

So most days he wandered. Explore the star map if Allura wasn’t using it. Snag a book from the library and use his translator to pick his way through it (he missed reading books the way he used to-- easy and immersive). Go to the pool once he figured out how it worked. And when the quietness of the hall got to him, when the itchiness of isolation settled over him like that wool blanket he had in his shack and nothing else helped, he’d lock himself in his room and pace from wall to wall. 

Today he was trying something different. Today he was on his way to the lounge. That morning at breakfast Pidge had mentioned trying to work on a safer booster for the pods, and since Keith knew about engines and explosives he figured it was as good a time as any to get closer to her and Hunk. 

Keith’s palms sweated under his gloves as he approached the door to the lounge, a strange apprehension welling in his chest. It was a bit ridiculous-- he hadn’t been nervous before their last Galra battle, but now he was just trying to talk to his teammates.

His hand was halfway to the entry pad when a loud laugh echoed from behind the lounge door and he froze, the apprehensive hope shriveling. 

Apparently Lance had chosen the lounge to loiter in today. And that ruined his entire plan. He’d never get anywhere with Lance there. He’d bait and taunt and push until Keith hit his breaking point, and Hunk and PIdge would go on thinking he was nothing more than a hot-headed loner.

His hand fell back to his side and bitter disappointment welled in his stomach. 

Maybe tomorrow. 

“Keith?”

He jolted at Hunk’s voice and immediately took three steps back from the door. His cheeks felt warm-- he was probably as red as his jacket from Hunk catching him just standing in front of the door like a moron. 

He swallowed down the embarrassment long enough to act like a normal person and murmur a greeting in return. He expected Hunk to proceed past him, perhaps with a strange glance, but not much more. 

But he didn’t, and when Keith glanced up, he was standing where he’d been a moment before, watching him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. 

“What’re you up to?”

Keith shrugged and looked away, putting his back to the wall. “Nothing.”

“Were you gonna come hang out with us in the lounge? Pidge said she had some engine things she wanted to ask you about.”

He winced a bit at the question, even as warmth curled in his chest at the thought of Pidge actually wanting his opinion on something. 

“No. I mean-- I guess I was, I was considering it, but you’re hanging out with Lance, so…” He let the sentence trail off and gave another awkward half-shrug. Hopefully that would be enough and Hunk would move on. 

He didn’t. He just stood there, looking at Keith with that same considering look, until suddenly his expression cleared.

“Well, that’s good actually, because I wanted your help with something too.”

Keith blinked a couple of times. “You wanted…  _ my  _ help?”

Hunk nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I got a new shipment of supplies at our last planet stop and I wanted to try out some new recipes.”

This is the sort of thing Keith had been waiting for, an express invitation, but still he balked. Sometimes people offered things out of pity, or a feeling of obligation, and taking what someone didn’t really want to give never ended well. He had to be  _ sure. _

“Doesn’t Lance usually help you with that?”

“Lance is with Pidge,” Hunk said, flapping a hand nonchalantly. “Besides, it would be nice to get some new opinions.”

Keith bit his lip, considering. Hunk seemed sincere… and it’s not like he had anything better to do. 

“Alright. Sure.”

“Awesome!” Hunk exclaimed, startling Keith when he sprang forward to grasp his wrist. “Come on, I’ve got some great ideas!”

That was how they made their way down to the kitchen-- the Yellow Paladin dragging a bemused Keith along by his wrist. The moment they arrived he was being pushed onto a barstool by Hunk, who immediately bustled around the counter to begin pulling out bowls and various utensils.

It was surprisingly pleasant. The room was soon warm from the oven and the stove, the smell of various alien herbs and fruits scenting the air. Keith sat in his barstool and swung his legs a little, indulging himself in an old fidget, and blinked slowly in an attempt to stay awake. Hunk kept up a quiet stream of chatter the entire time, explaining what various ingredients were and their uses and what he was doing with them, and Keith nodded and hummed a bit to confirm he was listening whenever it seemed appropriate. 

He was almost asleep by the time Hunk spooned out a bowl of his first experiment (some kind of pasta with brilliant red sauce) and pushed it across to Keith along with a spork. With Hunk watching on eagerly, Keith took a bite.

It wasn’t bad. The noodles were a bit softer than he was used to and the sauce tasted surprisingly like ketchup, but he liked it and told Hunk as much. The other boy beamed in response. 

“You finish eating that,” said Hunk, already turning to a box of chartreuse fruits. “I’ll get started on the next thing.”

Keith chuckled as he scooped another bite into his mouth. “I’m not going to be hungry for dinner if you keep feeding me.”

“That’s fine,” another flap of the hand, “You’re too scrawny anyway.”

Outwardly Keith protested, but he knew Hunk was right. Between living alone miles from the nearest town, losing Shiro, being kicked from the Garrison, and trying to track the Blue Lion’s signal, food hadn’t been high up on his priorities list for the past year. 

Then again, Hunk said the same thing about all of them but Shiro, so maybe he was a bit biased.

It took two more hours and three more taste tests before Keith realized what this warm feeling was.

It was the warmth and comfort of that old wool blanket after sitting in the sun, but minus the itch. It wasn’t new. He’d felt it before, doing homework in a crowded dorm room with Shiro and Adam and Matt. He’d missed it. 

“Hey, Keith, can I tell you something?”

Keith shook himself from his reminiscing and turned his attention back to Hunk, stirring something over the stove with that contemplative look back on his face.

“Uh, sure.”

Finally Hunk looked up, brushing the edges of his bangs out of the way.

“I didn’t actually plan on cooking today.”

Instantly Keith’s stomach plummeted, and it must’ve shown on his face because Hunk scrambled to finish what he was saying. 

“Not that I didn’t enjoy it or I didn’t want to! I just-- I was gonna work with Pidge but I saw you in the hallway and… I guess I thought you looked lonely.”

That made Keith pause. Not the observation; he knew he was lonely. It was an obvious and accepted fact. What surprised him was that Hunk had not only noticed, but changed his plans to do something about it. 

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I was. A little.”

“Did this help?”

He was leaning over the counter now, looking at Keith so earnestly. He cared. He wanted to make him feel better. Unexpected tears pricked at the corners of Keith’s eyes.

“Yeah. It really did.”

 


	2. How To Escape From Space Pirates for Dummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Pidge are captured by Space Pirates, and with Keith out for the count, Pidge will have to get them out with all of her 4'10 fury.

Keith never stopped fighting. Not once. Not when the pirates first apprehended them, not when they took the Lions, not even when Pidge hissed at him to stop before he got roughed up even more. He’d already earned himself a black eye and a split lip just in the process of having their armor removed. 

The pirates were trying to get the two of them shoved into cages (probably barely big enough to hold someone the size of Hunk) when one of the grey skinned aliens get sick of Keith’s constant kicking and squirming. 

“Tranq the mutt,” he ordered to one of his comrades as another wrestled Pidge into a cage and slammed the door shut. 

“No!” She cried, throwing herself against the bars, but it did nothing to stop the pirate with the orange belt from pulling a syringe gun and holding it to Keith’s neck as the rest held him down. 

Keith snarled and snapped his teeth, spewing creative insults left and right until the trigger was squeezed. Then he slumped, whole body going limp all at once, and the pirates began to laugh as they finally got Keith into the cage. Pidge bit her tongue until it bled when one of them kicked the bars before the whole group sauntered off down the hall.

Pidge braced herself against the metal floor and forced her lungs to take long, even breaths. The adrenaline was still rushing through her, making her hands shake and her head spin, and it was rapidly rotting into fear which she definitely didn’t have time to be feeling.

Ok. Ok. Everything’s fine. Deep breaths. 

Steps and procedures. Break things down. What’s first?

Step 1. Ascertain teammates condition. 

Sitting back on her heels, Pidge peered through the bars at Keith’s crumpled form. He was breathing fine from what she could tell, and when she warmed a skinny arm through the bars to take his pulse it was steady. But he didn’t move or respond to her voice or her shaking of his arm or light smacks on the back of his hand. 

Alright. Alive and healthy, but out for the count. She’d have to figure out how to get them out on her own. 

Step 2. Examine surroundings.

They were in a long, dimly lit cargo hold, rows of crates stretching on either side of them and across against the opposite wall. Most of them were empty, but here and there would be an alien cowering in a corner, probably having been here for quite a while. 

The cages themselves were made of solid metal, too thick to do anything without her bayard, but they had normal keyhole locks on the doors. Pickable. Presumably. 

Luckily there was detritus on the floor of her cage, perhaps from previous occupants-- shards of metal and loose bolts. She selected two and set about scraping one along the base of the bars to sharpen it.

The repetition was soothing, and by the time the tip of the metal shard was thin enough her hands had stopped shaking.

Keith was still unconscious and hadn’t moved an inch. Pidge took a moment to slow down, to breathe, to let herself feel the panic and the determination before going back to Robot-Coping Mode. 

“Don’t worry, Keith,” she murmured to her unconscious teammate. “I’m gonna get us out of here.”

He didn’t respond. He just laid there on his side, looking like Snow White with his dark hair and pale skin and unnatural stillness. 

Pidge gulped and shut herself down again. 

Step 3. Get the doors open.

It was awkward, picking a lock backwards with her arms twisted around the bars of the cage door, but she closed her eyes and listened for the subtle clicks that would grant them freedom. 

It took her twenty minutes to get the lock open. She pushed the door to the cage slowly so that it wouldn’t creak and clambered out, silently stretching her curled spine and aching shoulders. 

Step 4. Determine priorities. 

While Keith had been kicking up a fuss earlier, Pidge had memorized the route from the cargo hold to the hangar, but there were other things to consider before they broke out. Finding their armor, for one, and freeing the other prisoners. She’d need to collect more data to determine the best course of action. So, with only a slight pang of worry, she left Keith in his cage and crept out into the hallway. 

There were many doors in this hall, but only one was open and spilling light and voices. Keeping to the shadows, Pidge crept closer. 

Space pirates shared a few traits with Earth pirates-- one of them was their loud, raucous voices. She didn’t have to get dangerously close to hear what they were saying.

“-- one is smart, could sell her to one of the research prisons. But the other is too feisty for a camp-- plus they pay like shit.”

“He’s pretty, at least,” chimed in another voice that Pidge recognized as the one who’d given the order for the tranquilizer. “Could be worth tracking down one of the pleasure barges. Some of those people like something they can break in.”

A cold shudder went down Pidges spine as she turned back to the cargo hold. She had all the data she needed to make her plan of action.

Step 1. Get Keith to Red and send him home.

Step 2. Find her armor and store Keith’s in Green.

Step 3. Free the other prisoners and load them in her Lion for the escape.

Step 4. Raise hell.

* * *

She ran into a problem almost immediately, and that was that Keith was still out cold, and she had to get all one hundred and forty pounds of him across the ship to the hangar without getting caught. 

For a half a second she contemplated doing something else first and giving him time to wake up-- then she remembered what the aliens had said and her heart leapt into her throat.

She’d just have to figure it out.

First things first: She picked the lock on Keith’s cage and painstakingly dragged him out by the wrists. Technically he was the second smallest paladin next to herself, but when he was completely limp and not supporting any of his own weight he felt like a human shaped bag of bricks.

“At least it’s not Hunk,” Pidge muttered to herself as she glared down at Keith’s limp form. She spent several minutes debating how best to go about this without making too much noise or hurting either of them and wound up flipping him onto his front and kneeling to haul his torso up and over her back. 

Suffice to say it was awkward. Keith’s arms dangled limply over her shoulders and his feet dragged behind them, his weight forcing Pidge to walk bent over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, but the steadiness of his breath in her ear was reassuring, at least. 

“Ok, Keith, let’s get out of here.”

Her muscles began to burn within four staggering steps. But she didn’t have any choice-- she couldn’t just leave him here. That was  _ not  _ an option. So she ground her teeth and kept going.

Her pace was slow and awkward, like a hermit crab that had picked a shell far too large for it. But she kept going. 

“Three lefts, two rights, and a left,” she murmured under her panting breath. “Three lefts, two rights, and a left.” Some higher power must’ve been watching over them as they didn’t see a single pirate. The halls remained dark and quiet.

By the time she staggered into the hangar Pidge was soaked in sweat, muscles and joints alike screaming. Green and Red were parked in the center of the large room, particle barriers up. The sight gave Pidge the inspiration she needed to laboriously haul Keith the last twenty steps.

She didn’t even have to ask Red to let her in; the moment she got close the particle barrier flickered out and Red lowered her chin to the floor, jaw opening.

Breath coming in heaves, Pidge braced her abdomen against Red’s lower jaw and, as gently as she could, rolled Keith off of her back and into the Lion’s maw. A rumble rolled out of the machine as her eyes gleamed gold.

Pidge took a step back and stretched. A line of pops ran up her spine and over her neck, and she sighed at the pressure releasing before resting a hand on Red’s nose. 

“Take him home.”

* * *

Waking up felt like swimming through tar. It took ages-- feelings and sensations filtering in one by one. Laying on something soft. Gentle pressure wrapped all around him. Pressed up against someone’s body heat. Dim lights on the other side of his cemented closed eyelids. A cool hand in his hair.

For a little while he drifted, wanting to wake up but unable to force his eyes open. Eventually he succeeded in peeling his eyelids apart and was greeted by a grey steel ceiling. He frowned. 

That wasn’t quite right. There was something he was forgetting. Something important. The warmth beside him stirred. 

“Hey, you’re awake.”

With great effort Keith managed to turn his head. Shiro was beside him in his bunk, the light from his tablet lighting up his relieved expression. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Mn,” Keith managed, and Shiro gave a broken little chuckle. 

“Sounds about right.” He smoothed Keith’s hair back as he spoke. “You were out for almost five hours.”

Keith’s eyebrows twitched. Five hours was a long time. Damnit, why was it bad, what was he forgetting--

His body didn’t react to the adrenaline rush when he remembered, but he managed to make his vocal cords work. 

“Pidge?”

Shiro’s eyes softened. “Pidge is fine, bud. She’s in the shower right now.”

Keith let out a content hum and melted into the blankets. There were more questions to be asked of course, always more details to be sorted out, but Pidge was alright and for now that was all he needed to know. 

Shiro stroked his hair as he fell back into slumber. 


	3. Counting Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance runs into Keith in the dead of night.

The observation deck was always Lance’s favorite place to sit when he was homesick. Sure the constellations were different, and the hum of the ship wasn’t the same as the lap of waves on the beach, but stars were still stars. 

It was late, as it always was when he did this. He’d spent hours tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep in the silence. Back home he’d shared a room with his brothers his whole life, then a roommate at the Garrison-- he hadn’t been able to sleep soundly since Pidge took her headphones back and the white noise with them.

So he sat on the cold metal floor of the observation deck with his blanket tight around his shoulders, listening to the thrum of the Castle under him, and tried to bite back the tears rising in response to the longing ache in his chest.

He never felt the distance to home as strongly as he did during times like these. At night, alone, everyone else snoozing away in peace.

Or at least, almost everyone.

In the middle of his brooding session he heard the door swish open. Lance quickly straightened, wiping the tears from his cheeks on the edges of his blanket, trying to appear composed before whoever it was came around the console and found him.

He was expecting Hunk with his supernatural empathy, or Pidge up for another late night project, or even Shiro making his rounds when the nightmares wouldn’t let him rest. 

To his surprise, it wasn’t any of those three. The person who stepped around the console was Keith. 

He froze the second he noticed Lance curled up on the floor, and for a long moment the two boys just stared at each other. Keith was still in his day clothes, boots and jacket and all, but they were rumpled. His shoulders slumped towards the floor in a picture of exhaustion.

The spell was broken when Keith shifted his weight a bit and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, already disappearing behind the console again.

“Wait!”

The footsteps paused while Lance tried to figure out why he’d just said that and what he was going to say now. 

“You, uh… you don’t have to leave.”

He didn’t want to be alone. 

Keith returned like a startled cat being coaxed back into playing-- balking a bit between each step as though he was bracing to be chased away. But eventually Keith sat down beside him, a careful distance of two feet between their shoulders, and constricted his torso over his knees. 

Staring straight ahead, they sat in silence. 

“Are you ok?” Keith ventured to ask, to Lance’s surprise. “You look upset.”

Lance sighed and drew his blanket closer around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having a heartfelt conversation about his feelings with his rival of all people… but he’d never been good at holding back his words. 

“Homesick,” he admitted with a sigh. 

Keith gave a hum of consideration. “Miss your family?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to sleep without the noise.”

“Mm.”

Lance chanced a sidelong look at Keith. He wasn’t looking at the stars; his eyes were firmly fastened on the floor in front of his feet, the slope of his brow indicating hard thought. 

_ He’s smaller in the dark. _

“Do you miss your family too?” Lance found himself asking. Keith’s spine tightened, his eyes darting quick to Lance’s and then away again. His voice was raw when he spoke.

“Yes.”

“Who do you miss the most?” He didn’t register exactly what he was saying-- he just wanted to talk. To fill the silence. Keith licked his lips. 

“My dad,” he whispered.

“I miss my mom,” answered Lance. He had to blink rapidly to clear away the sudden resurgence of tears. “She’s gonna be so mad when we get home.”

“Probably.”

Lance took a steadying breath and focused on a blue star off to the left of the windows. 

“It’s ok. We’ll see them soon.” He was trying to make both of them feel better, but Keith flinched. “You ok?”

Keith turned his head away from him. “Fine.”

The silence dragged, threatening to turn awkward, and Lance cleared his throat. As weird as it was to do it with Keith, talking about it was making him feel better and he wasn’t ready to stop yet.

“My mom has these little things she does with each of us,” he heard himself say, “Just one on one, something special. She’d do her nails with Rachel or cook with Luis-- things like that.”

Keith turned back towards him, though it had an edge of reluctance, like he was curious but didn’t want to be. 

“How many siblings do you have?”

Lance gave a wry smile Keith probably couldn’t see in the dark. “Four. I’m the youngest.”

“Wow. That’s… a lot.”

“Yeah, it could be pretty loud sometimes. Or all the time. How many do you have?”

Keith’s arms tightened around his knees. “None.”

“Oh. Well, it’s not as fun as it sounds. Anyway, the thing my mom would do with me was stargazing. We lived on the beach so we’d go and sit by the edge of the water where it was dark, and we could see the entire galaxy running across the sky.”

Keith nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment before speaking. “I… I used to do that too. With my dad. We lived in the desert and we didn’t have any neighbors, so I could see the Milky Way too.”

“It’s beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah.” Keith’s eyes were shining. “It was.”

“I can’t wait to go back,” Lance said wistfully, gazing at the blue star and imagining it was Earth. “Until we can all see our families again.” When he looked back at Keith, the light in his eyes had dimmed, and he once again turned his head away so that Lance couldn’t see whatever was brewing on his face. 

“Um. Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” said Keith with a shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t look fine.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He slouched and hid his mouth behind his arms, propped over his knees. “It’s dumb. You wouldn’t care.”

And that… that stung a little. 

“I think I can decide for myself what I care about,” he said petulantly, folding his arms in a mockery of Keith’s body language. “Out with it, mullet.”

Keith gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes and a huff. “Fine. If you must know, it’s just that I won’t be seeing my family again.”

Lance blinked. Then he cleared his throat, blinked again, opened his mouth and closed it. What was he supposed to do with that? 

“What,” he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly, “You plan on dying up here or something?”

“No,” Keith mumbled. He shrank down into himself, but didn’t seem inclined to finish answering Lance’s question. 

“So…? Why don’t you think you’ll see them again?”

“Because I don’t have a family to see, Lance. My dad’s dead.” His voice cracked on the last word and he ducked his head into the safety of his knees while Lance reeled. 

“Oh… oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-- to be flippant or anything--”

“It’s ok, Lance.” The words were mumbled from his protected position. But Lance was stuck. Surely Keith must have  _ someone  _ to go home to, right?

“What about your mom?”

Keith flinched again. “Not around.”

“And you don’t have anyone else? No uncles or grandparents or--”

“No, Lance.”

He closed his jaw with a click. For a long moment silence reigned, Lance staring off into the distance, lost in thought, with Keith curled into a ball next to him like a pillbug. 

_ He’d really been living out there all alone.  _

Lance couldn’t begin to imagine what that must’ve been like. That kind of loneliness.

He was snapped out of his reverie by movement in his periphery. When he turned back towards Keith he didn’t see anything for a moment, then Keith’s back heaved and Lance’s heart lodged itself in his throat.

Judging by how loud he was when he was angry, Lance hadn’t expected him to cry so quietly. But he did, not making a sound besides soft little huffing breaths. Something about that was worse than if he’d been full on bawling. 

“Woah, Keith,” Lance said as gently as he could, “I didn’t mean to make you--”

“I’m fine,” Keith snapped raspily, pivoting his entire body to face away from him. 

“Uh, you’re clearly not.”

“I’m  _ fine.  _ It’s been years, I’m just being stupid, I should be over it.”

“Keith,” Lance’s voice sounded dismayed even to his own ears. “Losing a parent isn’t something you just get over, no matter how many years it’s been.” 

Keith said nothing, and Lance clenched his jaw in determination. Before Keith could argue any further he reached out, grabbed the Red Paladin by the collar of his ridiculous jacket, and hauled him into his side. 

“Lance!” Keith exclaimed, more in shock than outrage, flailing all of his limbs at once. “What are you  _ doing?” _

“Comforting you,” said Lance bluntly, locking an arm around Keith’s shoulders like a vice and making him stay there. “Now settle down and let yourself cry, hot-head.”

Keith struggled for a few more moments, but Lance’s grip was unfailing, and eventually he slumped into submission, letting his head rest on Lance’s shoulder. He felt it when the tears started back up-- felt his shoulders begin to heave up and down, the dampness when the first of them splashed against the collar of his shirt. 

“‘M sorry,” Keith mumbled (even though this situation as entirely Lance’s doing). “I just-- I miss him.”

“I know.” Lance ran a hand through Keith’s hair, noting with pleasure when the motion made some of the residual tension bleed out of him. “It’s ok to.” 

“I really hope you get to go home, Lance. I really do.”

And that, of all things, is what made Lance choke up. “Thanks, bud,” he struggled to say. Keith grasped a handful of his shirt in response, and Lance wrapped his blanket around both of them.

And there they sat until morning came. 

 


	4. Ice in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura is cold and Keith is hiding. Someone needs to break the ice.

Dinner was a tense affair, as the last three meals aboard the Castleship had been. All of the tension rested on one person, or rather, the one empty seat where a person should have been. Keith had been making himself scarce since he and Shiro had returned from the Blade of Marmora base, including skipping meals, and based on Allura’s prim response when Lance had brought it up the day before, she wasn’t too upset about it. 

The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the team. 

Lance tried to keep up appearances, but his smile was strained and his jokes fell flat. Pidge picked at her food, sending venomous glances at Allura out of the corners of her eyes as the Princess aggressively ignored her. Hunk fidgeted and fussed, silently concerned about a team member not eating. Shiro was silent and pensive with hunched shoulders. 

Coran merely chewed on his food goo and kept his thoughts to himself. 

After the unpleasant meal Coran tagged after Shiro. As he expected the Black Paladin went to the kitchen to fix up a bowl for Keith, and for a moment Coran let him be as he arranged the plates and bowls back in their places to be cleaned. He waited until Shiro was turning back to the door with food in hand before he spoke up.

“Number Two?”

Shiro paused in the doorway. “Yes, Coran?”

“I was hoping to speak to Keith.” He made his way over to Shiro and held out a hand. “May I?”

Shiro hesitated for a moment, but Coran waited patiently, and eventually he sighed and handed the bowl of goo to him. 

“Just… be careful.”

Coran nodded solemnly, and once Shiro had vacated the premises, set out for Keith’s bunk where he’d been hiding out for the last few days. The door was closed, and according to the red light on the touchpad, locked; Coran knocked politely and waited. 

From within the room came an irritated groan followed by footsteps that stomped against the floor. Keith started talking before the door had even opened. 

“Shiro, I told you, you don’t have to--” Keith cut himself off abruptly, eyes widening when he caught sight of the advisor in the hall. “C-coran. Sorry, I thought you were Shiro.”

“That’s quite alright. I was wondering if I might have a word?” He held out the bowl as a peace offering, which Keith eyed warily for a moment before accepting and letting Coran into the room. 

Now Coran hadn’t been in many of the Paladin’s rooms, but from what he’d seen of Pidge’s and Hunk’s, he’d expected a bit more decoration. But Keith’s was as neat and bare as the day the humans had arrived in the Castle-- only the rumpled blankets and the jacket hanging on the wall any indication that someone lived there. 

Keith walked across the room and set the bowl down on the desk next to the bed. He stood there for a tick, drawing himself up as thought bracing for a fight, then turned on his heel to face Coran. He looked… exhausted. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Keith kept his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on the floor, slightly off to the side, like Coran was some sort of predator that would attack upon eye contact. Like he was expecting something not-so-nice.

Coran cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. He remained at his place by the door, merely a single step into the room, trying not to make the Red Paladin feel hemmed in. Alfor had always hated feeling trapped, and he could only assume it would apply to Keith as well. 

“I just wanted to ask if you were feeling alright,” he began with an awkward stroke of his mustache. “You’ve been scarce these last few days.”

Keith scoffed and hunched his shoulders. He didn’t wince after the movement, so the stint in the pod must’ve fixed all the damage done by the Blade. 

“Gee, I wonder why.”

Coran raised an eyebrow and surprisingly enough that was what got Keith to flinch. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, fingers tightening around his biceps. “I just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Who are you worried about, specifically? Allura?”

Keith chewed on his lower lip. “Yeah. Allura, Shiro…” His eyes flicked up to Coran’s face for half a tick before darting away. “You.”

Coran couldn’t help but scoff. “Me? Please, Number Four, you wound me. I’ve faced many more intimidating figures than a teenager.”

He was hoping for a quiet chuckle, or a quirk of the lip, or even just a huff of breath, but Keith didn’t do any of that. He merely shifted on his feet and glared at the floor.

“It’s ok, Coran. You don’t have to do this just because you feel… sorry for me, or whatever.” He unfolded himself enough to gesture stiffly to the bowl. “I know I’m being a nuisance. I’ll get my own food after everyone else is done, you and Shiro don’t have to keep doing this.” His breath stuttered a bit, a quick  _ updown _ of his chest that was just enough to catch Coran’s attention.

“Well,” he said cautiously, “It would be the most efficient if you’d go back to joining us for meals.”

Keith was shaking his head before Coran had even finished his statement. “No. Allura doesn’t want me there.”

Coran paused long enough to stroke his mustache again and adjust his gloves. He had to tread carefully here-- it was sensitive territory. 

“Back on Altea, Allura was also little more than what you Earthlings call a teenager. Her emotions are volatile and she has yet to grow out of her prejudices. Once she becomes accustomed to your presence--”

Keith’s expression screwed up and he turned sharply away, not seeming to notice that he was now facing nothing more than a steel wall. 

“No,” he snarled, though it sounded choked, “She’s not going to become  _ accustomed  _ to me. She’ll learn how to hide it, but it won’t go away. Once someone looks at you like  _ that--”  _ His voice cracked and he took another heaving breath. “There’s no going back.”

Coran gulped. This was far worse than he’d thought. But he kept his composure.

“That sounds like a statement made from experience.”

The words could’ve been dealt with several ways. They opened a door to sharing more, but they could also be easily brushed off. Keith took neither of these options, opting instead to remain silent. His shoulders trembled. 

Coran took a few cautious steps further into the room, not missing how Keith shrunk into himself more and more with each footfall. 

Keith let the silence drag for a few more ticks before he spoke again, voice so low it was practically a whisper.

“I’ve seen it from enough people. Hoping for anything else will just… It’s not worth it.”

Coran moved forward again. If he’d learned anything about the Red Paladin after living with him for several phoebs, it was that he didn’t respond to meaningless platitudes. Things had to be tangible and proveable, or they weren’t worth the effort. 

He laid a gloved hand on Keith’s shoulder, the way he’d seen Shiro do so many times. But this time Keith flinched, so violently he felt the muscles retract under his fingers, and Coran didn’t know enough about Earth to put all of these little pieces together but whatever it was that had made Keith this cautious about people made his chest ache. Then he saw Keith’s eyes gleaming with unshed tears and that same fatherly pang he felt whenever he looked at Allura kicked into high gear.

“Oh, lad. Come here.” Before Keith could protest Coran had pulled him into his shoulder, one hand cradling the back of his head. 

For a long time, perhaps almost a dobosh, Keith stood there as rigid and unbending as a rod of Altean steel. Then, slowly, he began to unfold, twisting one cautious hand into the hem of Coran’s jacket as he felt the first warm drops of tears against his shoulders. Coran gently dragged his fingers through his hair and waited for the tension to bleed out of him.

“It’ll be alright, Number Four,” he murmured to the boy, who wound strong arms around his waist in answer. Keith may not believe the words quite yet, but Coran had unshakeable faith.

Because he was going to see to it himself. 

  
  



	5. Learn to Trust Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has trouble sleeping the night after the Clone fight, and he's not the only one.

This moon was  _ very  _ cold. It probably would’ve been smarter to sleep in their Lions rather than out here in the dust clustered around a meager campfire, but a lot had happened that day. None of them wanted to be separated, even if it was only in different Lions. 

They slept in a sort of ring around the campfire, all bunched together. Pidge tucked into the curve of Hunk as he slept on his side, with Lance below them using Hunk’s feet as a makeshift pillow. Beside him, the tips of her toes even with Lance’s hips, was Romelle with her head in Coran’s lap, snoring softly with his mustache to the sky. 

Allura sat against him, still awake. On her other side Krolia was curled up about a foot away, the strange blue wolf mirroring her with Keith squeezed in between them. And across the fire was the healing pod, Shiro serene and frozen inside. 

They were finally all together, for the first time since before Shiro’s disappearance, so why did it still feel like something was missing?

Something moved in her periphery. It was Keith, his leg jerking in his sleep. At first Allura wanted to dismiss it-- humans tended to move about in her sleep, she’d noticed-- but when she peered over Krolia’s shoulder she noticed how his brow was furrowed. 

He twitched again, gave a harsh jerk, and his hands came up in a cross over his head. Like he was blocking. 

Allura watched for several more minutes while he grimaced and fought in his sleep, unsure of what to do. Should she wake him? Would that be rude? She didn’t know what was alright to do in human society, and she hated how unsure it made her with her teammates. After this long she really shouldn’t be hesitating like this anymore.

Thankfully Keith saved her the agony of making a decision when he bolted awake himself, sitting upright with a quiet gasp and heaving chest. 

“Keith?”

His head snapped around in her direction and Allura’s breath caught. His eyes were… they were  _ yellow,  _ and the pupils had narrowed to slits, and by the stars were his teeth sharper?

Then he blinked, and rubbed his eyes, and when he looked back again his eyes were normal. She hadn’t imagined it, had she?

“Allura?”

She quickly shook herself. “Are you, ah, alright? You looked distressed just now.”

Keith flushed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a nightmare.”

Allura gave a non-committal hum, watching carefully as Keith turned his eyes away from her and scratched at the bandage covering his cheek. His eyes were still just as purple as they’d ever been. Must’ve been a trick of the light. Or her tired mind that refused to rest.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Honestly, she wasn't expecting Keith to accept. He’d always been the most reserved member of the team, more likely to keep his problems close than confide in someone. So you can understand how shocked she was when Keith actually said yes and extracted himself from his mother to sit come sit next to Allura. 

When they were side by side she finally understood what Lance had been talking about with Keith being bigger. His shoulders were broader, his hair longer, the top of his head even with hers when they sat. 

“You and Krolia were in the Quantum Abyss, yes?”

Keith nodded gingerly, wary of the mysterious burn on his cheek he’d refused to explain. 

“I’ve heard it has some… unusual properties. How long were you there?”

“Two years,” Keith said, followed by a yawn. “About… two and a half decaphoebs, I think.”

“Oh,” was all Allura could think of to say. That was… quite a long while.

“I missed you guys.” Allura looked up in surprise, but Keith was gazing into the fire with a far away look. He really had changed while he was away. 

“We missed you as well. Even if it was only a few movements for us.”

A tiny smile curved Keith’s lip, and for a moment they sat in a silence more comfortable than Allura could ever recall feeling around Keith. He carried himself with more ease now, less of that awkward, defensive restraint he’d had before. Finding his mother had done him good. It’s what gave her the confidence to ask her next question.

“What were you dreaming about?”

As it turned out Keith was still Keith, and he hesitated with another touch to the bandage. But eventually he clenched his jaw and apparently decided to answer. 

“I dreamt about Shiro. Getting him back wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Allura frowned. “Was he the one who burned you?”

He flinched and nodded, but followed with, “It wasn’t really him.”

“I know.”

The silence returned and this time neither of them broke it. Allura was still feeling wide awake, unfortunately, but Keith’s shoulders were beginning to slump a bit, his eyelids fluttering and his yawns coming more frequently. 

She was just about to suggest he try to go back to sleep when suddenly he listed to the side and his head landed on the shoulder of her armor. She froze.

For several excruciating seconds Allura waited for him to pull away, maybe mumble a little apology and blush and retreat back to his mother and wolf. But he didn’t stir, and when she finally worked up enough courage to turn her head and look at him, she found his eyes closed and his breath coming easily. He’d fallen asleep. On her shoulder. 

He really had changed. 

 


	6. To Be Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro waits for Keith to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little short and sweet thing :)

The sun had long since set. Shiro switched on the bedside lamp and sighed as the warm glow dimly lit the room. He would never be comfortable in hospitals despite, or perhaps because of, the extensive amount of time he’d spent in them over the course of his life. This time was one of the worst. 

Keith was laid out on the hospital bed before him, sleeping peacefully with bandages wrapped around his forehead. Apparently he’d woken up for a bit earlier, during Shiro’s speech, but fallen asleep again soon after. 

Krolia and Kolivan had only just left to finally go debrief with Allura and Sam. Technically he should’ve been there, but no one had asked him and he wasn’t going to push it. He wanted to be here for Keith, even if he wasn’t conscious to acknowledge it. 

The Lions had crashed hard. And Keith, being the overachiever he was, had crashed hardest. That combined with that strange quintessence attack from the mysterious mech resulted in this-- Keith still unconscious days after the other paladins had begun to recover. 

Lost in thought, Shiro reached out for Keith’s hand, taking it in his left and dragging his thumb over Keith’s cool knuckles. 

It was like waiting outside of a healing pod, but worse. Here there was no guarantee he would be alright when he woke up.

He heard the door open and the footsteps approaching, but he didn’t look up. HIs eyes were locked on Keith’s face, tracing over that terrible scar that Shiro had given him but Keith seemed to wear as a mark of pride. 

“Do you feel guilty?” Krolia’s voice.

“No,” Shiro answered honestly. “He’s the Black Paladin. He did his job.”

Silence. Shiro ran his thumb over Keith’s hand and gulped. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not worried though.”

He listened as Krolia crossed the room and dragged a chair over to sit beside him. Looking at her was eerie-- it was like looking through a window to an alternate reality, at who Keith could’ve been if genetics had chosen a different route. 

“I said this to you once before, though I don’t suppose you remember, since it wasn’t truly you.” Shiro winced, already knowing where this was going, but Krolia either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Thank you for raising him to be who he is.”

He shook his head as adamantly as he could manage. 

“It wasn’t me. I was barely more than a kid then, either. It was all him-- it’s just who he is. He just--” His throat tightened and he had to pause to clear it. “He just needed someone in his corner.”

Krolia huffed, her chair creaking as she leaned back. 

“You talk about him the same way he talks about you. So full of admiration.”

He choked on a heartless chuckle as he watched the shadows from the lamp play over Keith’s cheekbones.

“He deserves it. He’s saved me so many times.” He coughed to disguise what could’ve become a sob. “I wish I could save him.”

“You did, Shiro. A long time ago.” 

Shiro made himself breathe slow so that he wouldn’t cry.

Keith stirred but didn’t wake.

And they sat in silence. 


	7. The Past is in the Past (Right?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team lands on a new planet and there's a bit of a misunderstanding. Also, angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one reads more like a bingo prompt than anything else and I don't think it's my best work but here ya go anyway.

The moment the Paladins left the Castle they were swamped by humidity. It was expected on a planet dominated by jungle, but expecting it didn’t make it any more comfortable. Ahead of them was the promised convoy from the local alien settlement; they hadn’t trusted the Paladins enough to invite them right to their home, so they sent ahead some diplomats to parlay ahead of time. Shiro couldn’t fault them for that, even if it made their jobs more difficult. 

Allura led their procession through the knee high grass until they were a dozen yards away from the procession of alien diplomats, squat and toad-like in brightly dyed robes. Between the two groups were a series of metal poles about twenty feet tall, with smaller rods radiating from their tips in a starburst. He wasn’t entirely sure what they did, if anything. Allura had stopped them in front of the pillars, so perhaps they were some sort of border marker or something symbolic? 

“Princess Allura,” greeted the foremost alien, tapping his staff on the ground before him. “And the five Paladins of Voltron. So the legends are true.”

“Yes. Will you aid us in our fight against Zarkon?”

The little frog man considered, then raised a webbed hand and beckoned to them. “Come forward.”

Allura cast them all a positive nod, and as a group they moved towards the pillars while the aliens watched with surprisingly avid eyes. Allura crossed between the two pillars without a problem, followed by Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. Shiro went next, letting out a relieved breath when the pillars didn’t react to his arm (the pillars functioning as a weapon scan had crossed his mind) but before he could continue on to stand by the Princess he felt a hand tuck itself into his elbow. 

He turned to see Keith, who had only taken a single step through the pillars before stopping.

“Keith?”

He wasn’t looking at Shiro; instead his gaze was tilted up towards the sky, directed at the tops of the pillars.

“Do you hear that?” He asked Shiro in a low tone, who furrowed his brow. 

“Hear what?”

“That. It’s like… keening.” Keith said, then grimaced. If he’d been a cat his ears would’ve been pressed flat to his head. “It’s annoying. How are you not hearing it?”

Shiro was about to respond when a new voice caught his attention-- the croaking speech of one of the aliens, who he’d just noticed were watching him and Keith with narrowed eyes. 

“I knew it!” He proclaimed, waving his own staff above the head of the one who’d spoken to them before who watched without a word. “Nothing more than a Galra trick!”

“What?” Squawked Hunk, while Pidge gave an exaggerated sigh and Allura’s expression turned icy. 

“Why do things always have to be difficult?” Lance muttered to himself.

Allura’s voice cut the air. “I don’t know how you’ve come to that conclusion,” she said, her voice cold and harsh enough to send a shiver down Shiro’s spine, “But I can assure you that the Paladins and myself want nothing more than to destroy the Galra empire.”

The first alien just looked at her and blinked, unmoved by her anger. “Then how do you explain this?” From the pocket of his robe he produced what looked to be a white remote, upon which were a number of different buttons. He pressed one, and movement from Shiro’s periphery dragged his eyes up to the pillars. The smaller rods had begun to vibrate, almost violently, like palm leaves being tossed in the wind. 

A second later Keith gave a sharp cry of pain. His hand fell away from Shiro’s arm, retracting to join the other pressed on either side of his helmet, like he was trying to cover his ears. 

“Keith?” Shiro turned his back to the aliens and took Keith by the shoulders. “Keith, what’s wrong?”

His only answer was a high pitched whine. 

Shiro half turned away, keeping one hand on Keith while he faced the aliens, who still watched with infuriating impassivity. The other Paladins immediately fell in closer to him when they saw the half-panicked look on his face.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it right now,” he snapped. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Snarled Allura. 

Calmly, the frog answered, “The frequency is only detectable to Galra. So, Princess Allura, if you are who you claim to be--” The alien hit another button on the remote and Keith  _ screamed,  _ dropping to his knees in the grass while the Paladins swarmed him with concerned cries of his name. “Explain why you have a Galra spy in your midst?”

Allura’s fists clenched at her sides and she shot an angry glare back at their huddle. Shiro glared back. It had only been a few days since the disaster with the Blade of Marmora and Shiro could respect that she was still coming to terms with it, but Keith was on the ground shrieking with pain and now was  _ not  _ the time to get into this. 

The Princess turned back to the diplomats and Shiro back to Keith. He’d torn his helmet off and was now pressing his hands directly over his ears, and if Shiro’s eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, that was blood oozing out from between his fingers. It was definitely tears that were coursing over his cheekbones. 

“We recently learned,” Allura said, having to pitch her voice to rise over Keith’s continuing pained cries, “That the Red Paladin does have some… unsavory elements in his bloodline.” 

Shiro’s gut clenched. 

“But his loyalty is unquestioned. He was raised on a planet that has not yet made contact with the Galra and was unaware of his heritage.”

The aliens glanced at each other, considering, and Shiro’s patience snapped.

“Turn it off!” 

They waited for Allura’s tight nod before doing so. Keith instantly crumpled forward against Shiro’s chestplate, fingers still sealed over his ears in a trembling grip. Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith’s shoulders, speaking to him in a low voice, but he never responded and Shiro gave a bitter shake of his head. 

“His eardrums probably burst,” he muttered. One of Pidge’s hands fisted around one of the massive blades of grass tickling their chins. “He needs a healing pod.”

“He has leave to return to the Castle,” said Allura coolly. “The rest of you--”

“His equilibrium will be off.” Shiro could feel the tension in the air after he interrupted but at the moment he didn’t care. His hands were trembling with the force of his rage. “I’ll carry him back. Pidge, grab his helmet and come with me.”

Pidge looked at least as angry as he was as she snatched up Keith’s red helmet at got to her feet. Shiro carefully hooked his metal arm under Keith’s knees and gathered him up, armor awkwardly clinking together as he lifted him. Keith didn’t even try to protest or squirm. Up this close Shiro could see the blood matting the hair around his ears and had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming at Allura right at that moment. 

He stormed back to the Castle with Pidge at his heels. 

Allura returned to the Castle well after dark, Lance and Hunk immediately abandoning her in favor of their beds. In all honestly she would like to do the same, but there was another matter she had to look into first. 

Her heels echoed through the halls on the way to the med bay. 

She wasn’t shocked to find Shiro still there, keeping vigil over the pod that held Keith. He didn’t even turn around when she came in; he just kept facing the pod, arms crossed and spine straight. She could feel the anger roiling off of him from here. 

Well, good. He wasn’t the only one. Getting the materials they needed was even more difficult after Allura had to prove that they weren’t all Galra spies, thanks to Keith and his inconvenient DNA. 

“We have the materials we need for the teladuv,” she said to Shiro’s back. “Once we’re back on Olkarion construction can begin.”

Shiro gave nothing more than a noncommittal grunt as an answer and Allura felt her temper flare. 

“I would appreciate it if you would look at me when I speak to you.”

The Black Paladin turned stiffly on his heel, a practiced about-face that revealed his military background. His eyes were flat, slate grey, but they sparked when they found the white remote curled in the fingers of her left hand.

“Allura. What is that.”

She raised her chin. “The chieftain was gracious enough to give this to me as a gift. In case Keith isn’t as trustworthy as you think he is.”

The transformation was instant. One moment he was the Black Paladin she knew, if a bit irritated with her, and the next he was all cold eyes and stone muscles. The Champion of the arena. 

“You wouldn’t,” he said, his voice a growl. Allura glanced down at the remote. In all truth she’d taken it mostly to be considerate, not with any actual intention of using it. But the more she thought about it… perhaps it would be prudent to keep around. Just in case.

“No,” snapped Shiro, as though he could read her mind. “You are not keeping that thing.”

“Halfbreeds tend to be unstable,” she found herself saying, “If he--”

_ “No.  _ You aren’t going to-- to hold that thing over his head like that. I won’t let you.”

“Let me? You--”

Shiro took two big steps forward, not close enough to touch but enough for his anger to be palpable. His expression was darker than a thunderstorm. 

“Allura. Give me the remote.” He held out his hand, the metal one, expectantly and waited when she didn’t immediately hand it over. 

Allura took a moment to think. She thought about her father, and the Red Lion, and Keith in that Blade of Marmora uniform. She thought about Keith, kneeling in the grass screaming, and gave the remote to Shiro. 

He crushed it easily, a vicious look on his face when he discarded the remains to the floor. Then he turned away from her, back to the pod, and Allura slipped from the room, something like remorse pounding behind her ribs. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever forgive Allura for season 2?  
> Unlikely


	8. A Little Bit of TLC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is tired, and Keith is a good brother.

“You should rest.”

“I’m fine, Keith.”

“No you’re not. When’s the last time you slept?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m fine.”

“No,  _ you’re not!”  _

“Keith.”

“Shiro!”

With a huff Shiro turned away from the console and the ridiculous number of screens he had pulled up to shoot Keith an irritated look. The Red Paladin was there behind him, with crossed arms and his patented Stubborn Face. That should’ve been his first hint that he wasn’t going to win this fight, but he foolishly stood his ground. 

“Keith, we don’t have time, we need to be planning, the attack on Zarkon is in two days and--”

“And you’re going to be useless to us if you’re exhausted.”

Shiro’s arm jerked, intending to raise his hand and punch the bridge of his nose, but a sudden spike of phantom pain lanced through his shoulder and ran all the way down to his fingers. He didn’t hide his grimace in time and Keith’s expression set. 

“Come on, Shiro. You’re in pain. Quit being such a stubborn ass.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping and muscles twinging in answer. He hated to admit it but… Keith was right.

“Fine. I’ll go to bed.”

But Keith didn’t budge. 

“That’s not going to help your arm though, is it?”

Shiro winced. He didn’t like to talk about his arm-- he preferred to pretend it didn’t exist. That he was still whole. That a piece of him hadn’t been torn away and turned into a weapon. 

“My arm’s fine,” he said brusquely, stepping down from the console. But as he tried to pass him Keith reached out and grabbed his left elbow to keep him in place. 

“Shiro. Let me help.” 

“I don’t want to make you--”

“You’re not making me. I’m offering.”

God. He really didn’t have a choice here, did he?

“Fine,” he sighed, “Do your worst.”

A tiny hint of a smile appeared on Keith’s face as he took Shiro by the wrist and drew him forward, towards the Black Paladins seat at the front of the bridge.

“Sit.”

Reluctantly, Shiro obeyed. He couldn’t help the way he tensed up with Keith behind him; he trusted Keith, of course, more than anyone else, but hypervigilance didn’t distinguish between friend and foe. 

Keith didn’t say anything when he put his hands on Shiro’s shoulders and he instinctively flinched at the touch. Carefully, his left hand squeezed at the juncture of his shoulder and his neck while the fingers on his right traced over the metal, searching for where prosthetic met flesh. 

Shiro jolted again when he finally found it, and he paused. 

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah,” Shiro breathed out, the word riding on an exhale. “It’s just kinda tender.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

Slowly, Keith’s fingers began to rub at the tensed muscles, working out tension with painstaking patience. Shiro could still remember teaching Keith how to do this at the younger boys insistence, back at the Garrison when the disease in his arm would cause him pain. It was a different kind of pain than this, more of an aching than a stab. 

He could feel it in Keith’s touch. He was remembering too, when Shiro had taught him how to remember being gentle. This moment was a spiral-- a memory of a memory of a memory. 

Shiro didn’t know how long they sat there for. One by one the knots in his muscles eased, warmth spreading when they came loose, and soon his eyelids were drooping. 

God, he really was exhausted. 

“You gonna fall asleep?” Asked Keith with a teasing lilt. Shiro’s answer was an incomprehensible grumble, and Keith chuckled and took his hands away. 

“Alright, let’s get you into bed, Mr. Leader.”

Shiro felt the warm grin grow on his lips as Keith took him by the wrists and pulled him up. 

“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Cadet.”

Keith laughed again. There was a sentence there waiting to be said, some retort about how he’d been kicked out and wasn’t a cadet anymore, but Keith didn’t say it. Probably not wanting to ruin the cozy mood they’d built up between them. 

Soon they arrived at the door to Shiro’s room and Keith let him go. 

“Goodnight Shiro,” he murmured. When Shiro looked at him his eyes were shining, and for a moment he was back in the Garrison hallway, an angry, bruised little thirteen year old boy looking at him the same way after he told him never to give up on himself. 

“Goodnight Keith.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls no shipping comments on this its all platonic


	9. The Enemy of My Friend is... My Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is being a jerk and Hunk does something about it.

As wild as their lives were now, certain things remained constant. They had to, or they’d all lose their minds. So the Paladins kept as much of a routine as they could. If they didn’t get called away to battle they’d get up at the same time, eat at the same three meal times every day, train at the same time everyday. Other activities would vary depending on if they had a battle, or who was in what mood on that specific day, but one thing that never ever changed, no matter what, was Lance and Keith. 

Even if they were on a mission, even if they were in battle, even if it was just a lazy day where no one was expected to even be in the same room together let alone speak to each other, those two would find a way to fight. Or, as Hunk was beginning to notice, Lance would find a way to fight with Keith. 

It took a couple of weeks, but Hunk was finally getting comfortable enough in the Castle to note people’s behavior on his usual nosy level. That observation told him many things. Allura and Coran weren’t nearly as composed about the loss of Altea as they appeared to be. Shiro spent a significant amount of time pretending he was fine when he could barely handle someone dropping a plate without leaping out of his boots. Pidge had stopped writing in her diary since Hunk had admitted to reading it. 

And, most apparently, Keith wasn’t nearly as belligerant as Lance acted like he was. 

He definitely wasn’t docile. Far from it. Whenever Lance instigated a fight he went into it guns blazing and pulling no punches. But that was just it: he only ever saw  _ Lance  _ starting the fights. As long as Lance wasn’t around Keith was quiet, polite even, if a bit distant. 

For a while he didn’t do anything with this observation. Even though Lance annoyed Keith, they didn’t seem like they were actually doing each other any harm, so there was no point in intervening. At least, until today. 

He, Lance, and Pidge had been loitering in the lounge for awhile, Lance chattering Pidge’s ear off while the messed with Rover’s tiny engine and Hunk organized the little packets of spices they’d gotten from the last planet. A couple of hours in the door to the lounge slid open to admit Keith, hair wet and curling at the ends from his shower after training. 

Lance glanced up, but for once didn’t say anything, and Keith entered the room unmolested. He paused and looked around, as though trying to determine where he could sit that wouldn’t get in anyone’s way, when something in Pidge’s mechanics pile caught his eye and he shuffled over. 

Lance’s voice is what pulled Hunk’s attention in. 

“What are you doing, Mullet?” 

Keith didn’t answer. He merely considered the engine Pidge was building for a moment before squatting down and picking up a little part. 

“You should use this instead,” he murmured, holding out the piece of metal to Pidge. “You’ll get better stability that way.”

Pidge blinked owlishly behind her glasses. “Oh. Really? I figured they were the same gauge, so they’d be the same.”

Keith shook his head, not noticing the vexed look Lance was giving him, and Hunk mentally braced himself for the inevitable. If it was one thing Lance hated, it was having the attention pulled away from him. 

“No, the one you’re using is a little thinner, see, so--”

“What do you know about it?” Lance snapped, and Hunk sighed. 

_ Here we go.  _

“Last I checked you’re not one of the resident geniuses.”

The contemplative look slid off of Keith’s face, souring into irritation and something that looked an awful lot like hurt. 

“I’m not stupid, Lance. I went to the Garrison the same as the rest of you.”

“Yeah, and then you dropped out.”

Hunk’s heart twisted when he saw Keith flinch, and he set down the spice packet he’d been fiddling with. This wasn’t the first time Lance had mocked Keith for leaving the Garrison, and every time Keith got that same look on his face. Like a kicked puppy trying to hide its pain behind a half-hearted snarl. 

“I got  _ kicked out.  _ There’s a difference.”

“Not much of one. If you’re as good as you say you are they wouldn’t have cared how many fights you got into.”

Keith dropped the little part that he’d been showing to Pidge and straightened up, the familiar scowl on his face. 

“I don’t have to prove myself to you. I’m good enough for Red and that’s all that matters.”

Either Lance didn’t see the vulnerable set to Keith’s shoulders, or he just didn’t care. Either way he didn’t stop. 

“Yeah, funny thing that. Do you ever think about how you were the last one to get chosen by a Lion?”

Pidge shot Lance a look and elbowed him, but he wouldn’t be deterred. 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you aren’t that great and Red just chose you because you were the last Paladin available?”

Keith went white, and Hunk lost his patience.

_ “Lance!” _

Lance jumped violently and shot an astonished look over his shoulder. 

“That’s enough.”

“Aw, Hunk, come on, it’s not--”

Hunk’s eyes narrowed and Lance cut himself off, baffled. A certain vulnerability of his own was also brewing behind his eyes, so Hunk gentled, but only slightly.

“I know you think you’re being funny, but you’re not. You’re being mean.”

In the background Keith’s eyes were wide as Lance folded his arms, covering his emotions with a pout. He and Keith really weren’t that different, after all. 

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he mumbled petulantly. Hunk shook his head.

“How would you feel if Keith went around calling you cargo pilot all the time?”

That seemed to get through to him at last, as his eyes dropped to the floor and his shoulders slumped. Keith just fidgeted uncomfortably, like he didn’t know what to do with someone standing up for him. That expression only worsened when Lance got to his feet and stormed out of the lounge. 

“Christ,” said Pidge with a tired sigh, “You guys are so freaking dramatic.”

He’d never seen Keith look more awkward, which considering the situations they’ve been in, really said something. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “He’s just going to be angrier now.”

“Maybe for a couple of hours. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Keith shook his head hard, arms folded tightly over his chest and fingers clutching at the material of the sleeves. 

“But you’re not the one he’s going to take it out on.”

Pidge threw up her hands dramatically, though she looked a bit regretful when Keith flinched in response. 

“That’s it. I’m talking to Shiro tonight and you and Lance are gonna talk this out. This is getting ridiculous.”

That made Hunk smile. “Good idea, Pidge.”

Keith didn’t look convinced, but Hunk was confident in their plan. Even if the mediation session didn’t work, he’d just keep calling Lance out until he stopped.

After all, friends don’t let friends be bullies, right? 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this came off as preachy but I have a serious bone to pick with Lance.


	10. Do It One More Fucking Time, Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team learns something new about their Red Paladin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi this is very much based on my own experiences my spine was crawling the whole time I wrote it so enjoy my suffering and constant projection onto Keith.

Group time in the lounge was always… interesting, to say the least. Usually it was just loud with Lance badgering either Pidge or Keith until they snapped at him and gave him the attention he wanted. Shiro and Hunk would look on with exasperated sighs and fond smiles, respectively. But every so often something particularly over the top and dramatic would happen.

Today was looking to be one of those days. 

Pidge was the picture of serenity, having finally figured out where Lance was hiding her headphones, and now used them to block out the boys badgering with a slight smirk curving her lips. Hunk as always had the patience of a saint, and Shiro got the distinct impression that Lance both pitied and admired him too much to annoy him. Leaving, as usual, one target. 

Keith sat on the sofa perpendicular to Shiro, his back to the other three paladins, blissfully unaware of the mischievous look that was brewing on Lance’s face. He’d assembled a small supply of rolled up bits of paper he’d torn off of Pidge’s blueprints, and now he carefully lined one up, and with exaggerated aim, flicked it at Keith’s back. 

It struck true-- right between Keith’s shoulder blades. He jolted so badly his tablet hit the floor and one hand flew back almost accusingly to grasp at the impact site. 

Keith whipped around to glare at Lance, who failed to hide his snickers. Shiro cringed at the way his other hand clenched on his knee. The team knew Keith was touchy about… well, touch, but only he knew that Keith really, really didn’t like being touched on his back. Especially between the shoulder blades. 

With a muttered word that sounded an awful lot like a curse, Keith turned back around and retrieved his tablet. He shot an irritated look at Shiro, who gave a sympathetic grimace in return, before turning back to what he was doing. 

Two minutes later Lance did it again. 

“Lance!” Shouted Keith, whipping around again to give Lance his worst glare. “Knock it off!”

Lance held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ok, mullet, jeez. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

Keith growled, but when Lance didn’t move to flick any more of his ammunition, reluctantly returned to his position. And Shiro thought that would be the end of it, as for the next few minutes Lance didn’t move, and Keith was gradually unscrunching his shoulders from around his ears. 

He should’ve known better. 

Ever so quietly, Lance slid out of his chair. 

Shiro noticed the motion and raised an eyebrow at him, but the Blue Paladin merely smirked in answer and crept forward a few steps towards the back of the couch. 

_ Oh for fuck’s sake.  _

He gave Lance a sharp shake of the head. He’d been hoping to head this off without making it a huge deal, but Lance didn’t stop. Crouching behind the sofa, he raised one of his hands, wiggling his fingers threateningly to Hunk and Pidge’s smothered amusement. 

Shiro opened his mouth. At the same moment Lance planted his fingertips directly on Keith’s spine. 

Keith’s shout ricocheted off the walls and his tablet launched itself across the room in reaction to his panicked flinch. Lance’s head popped up from behind the couch, laughter mingling with Hunk and Pidge’s chortles, but it didn’t last long-- Keith was already on his feet and swinging. 

Knuckles met cheekbone and Lance hit the floor, and suddenly everyone was shouting and standing from their chairs. 

“What the fuck, man?” Lance was yelling at Keith, who had his arms retracted into his body and tears in his eyes.

“I told you, I  _ fucking told you not to--” _

Hunk was kneeling at Lance’s side, switching between concerned looks at the red mark on his cheek and disbelieving glares at Keith. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just hit him like that!” He said, and even though his voice was lower, it still made Keith grimace. Then Pidge joined the fray, rushing around the side of the couch to get closer and sending Keith stumbling back towards the wall. 

“Keith, what the heck, playful punches are one thing but that was way too hard--”

Keith ducked his head and put his hands over his ears.

_ “Everybody quiet!” _

All of them instantly stopped at the sound of Shiro’s Commander Voice; the one he only used when things had really gone to shit. There was tense silence for several seconds before he took the few steps he needed to be within arm's distance of Keith. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to be heard if he spoke quietly. 

“Keith?”

He twitched, tucking his chin closer to his chest. Even from here Shiro could see him shaking. He didn’t try to make him look up or take his hands away-- he was listening, Shiro was certain. 

“Do you need to go settle down?” Keith gave a jerky nod, still not taking his hands away from his ears. “Alright, go ahead.”

It took him no less than two seconds to flee the room. 

Lance got to his feet with a heavy scowl, cradling his cheek with one hand and Hunk at his back. He looked like he was about to say something bitter.

“You’re playing favorites again, Shiro.”

There it was. He sighed and pinched his brow. 

“No I’m not.”

“He punched me and you just let him go!”

“Yeah,” Hunk chimed in, shifting awkwardly on his feet, “Lance kinda has a point. Keith hit him pretty hard.”

“I will talk to Keith about that,” Shiro said through clenched teeth, “Later. After he’s had time to calm down.”

Lance scoffed at him. “Oh yeah, he’s the one who needs time to calm down. Poor little Red Paladin can’t be expected to control his temper.”

“That’s not what--”

“If you ask me you shouldn’t just ‘talk’ to him. He should be put on pod cleaning duty for a month--”

“Lance.” He’d meant it be a stern snap, maybe a reprimand, but it came out sounding tired and exasperated. It didn’t matter either way; Lance still shut up, albeit begrudgingly. “ I  _ will  _ speak to Keith about the punch, but you need to understand. He really hates his back being touched like that.”

“Well he could’ve just asked me not to like a normal person!”

“He kinda did,” said Pidge, quirking her mouth to the side thoughtfully. “He told you to knock it off and you didn’t.”

Lance’s mouth opened, and upon realizing that Pidge had a point, closed again. Shiro cleared his throat and continued. 

“He’s very specific about touch. Especially there. Not even I can touch him on the spine like that.”

Lance’s frown now looked more confused than angry. “Why?”

Shiro shrugged. “He just doesn’t like it. He told me once it felt like someone zapping him with a live wire while spiders ran down his spine. And then everyone started yelling and it was too much. If I try to talk to him now he’ll either shut down or get more upset. You understand?”

He didn’t look like he did, but he nodded all the same, and Hunk followed suit. 

“Shiro?”

He turned questioning eyes to Pidge, who was biting her lip and fidgeting with her glasses. 

“Was that Keith… having a meltdown?”

He blinked. For a moment he thought Pidge was using the word in a general way, but her unusually shy manner mixed with that knowing look in her eyes…

Shiro nodded. 

Lance noticed their silent communication, but bless his soul couldn’t figure out what they meant. 

“What do you mean a meltdown?”

By the solemn look on Hunk’s face, he too had put the pieces together. Shiro gave another tired sigh, bracing himself to try and explain it without kick starting any stereotypes or embarrassing Keith, but Pidge beat him to it. 

“It means he’s autistic, Lance.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Oh… shit. I’m an asshole.”

A mirthless chuckle escaped from Shiro’s chest. “Yeah, a little bit. An apology probably wouldn’t go amiss, once he’s feeling better.” 

“Right.” Lance raised a hand to his cheek, only to immediately cringe when he prodded at the rapidly swelling mark on his face. Keith really hadn’t pulled his punch. 

“You should get Coran to take a look at that,” he advised with genuine sympathy. 

“I’ll take him,” volunteered Hunk instantly, putting his hands on Lance’s shoulders to steer him from the room. “We’ll see you guys at dinner.”

The second they left Pidge had scurried over to Shiro’s side, a determined expression on her face. 

“Hey, is Keith ok with talking about it? Being on the spectrum? Cause I am too and I… it might be nice too…” Shiro cut her off with a warm smile and a hand on her shoulder.  

“I’m sure he’d like that, Pidge. In a few hours.” 

  
  
  
  



	11. Atlas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haggar faces the White Lion.

Keith screamed as black lightning arched through him. He was trying not to let the sounds out, the blood running down his chin was a testament to that, but Haggar was unyielding. She’d only gotten stronger after going to Oriande, and the quintessence she was draining from the Alteans she’d stolen from Lotor’s colony was only amplifying her power. 

“Give in, Red Paladin,” she taunted, pacing to the side as she struck again. She’d abandoned her robes, hunched figure, and Galra facade-- now she stood tall and proud in a battlesuit not unlike Allura’s. But being unsettlingly Altean couldn’t hide how the quintessence had affected her. Hair still white and fingers still clawed. 

Keith writhed. This mission had been a risk and they’d both known it when they accepted, but they hadn’t anticipated the witch being there. She always managed to come out of nowhere. Always a step ahead of them. 

“Give in!” 

Shiro shouted and fought against the magic binding him to no avail. He couldn't get out. He was helpless. Why was he always helpless when Haggar wanted to hurt Keith? He’d sworn to himself he’d never let it happen again, that he wouldn’t let the witch put so much as another scratch on Keith, but he’d already failed. She’d already taken everything from him and she just kept taking. 

“I know you can feel it.” She let up on the lightning, only for a moment, pacing in a slow circle around Keith’s limp form. He didn’t answer, sprawled out on his side with his eyes locked on Shiro while he tried to catch his breath. Even from this distance Shiro could see his eyes turning yellow. “It makes you stronger. It’s the strongest part of you.”

Shiro felt a cold shiver go down his spine. It hadn’t been too long ago (or had it?) that Sendak had said the same thing to him. Or maybe it was a hallucination, or a fake message brought on by the Galra crystals’ infection of the Castle. In any case the words were painfully familiar.

Keith bared his teeth at her in a wordless snarl. His canines were elongated and sharp, shining in the dim purple light of Haggar’s warship. He wasn’t a stranger to Keith’s Galra side making an appearance, but usually it only lasted a few seconds at a time when he needed an extra push in battle. This had been going on for minutes, now. 

“Give in to your instincts!” Haggar taunted again, more lightning arcing from her fingertips. Another scream tore out of Keith’s throat as he seized from the current, convulsing against the metal floor, and Shiro couldn’t help but roar his rage even though he knew it wasn’t going to help. They were alone. The team was god knows where and who knew if they even realized something was wrong. It was down to him and Keith, and he was useless and Keith was in pain. He couldn’t even call a Lion to help anymore-- his connection with Black had been severed when Allura peeled him out of the Astral Plane. 

“Leave him alone!” He cried for the millionth time. Like every time before that, it did nothing. 

God, he had to do something. He couldn’t just  _ sit here  _ while Keith was being broken down right in front of him. But what could he do? He didn’t have a Lion.

He didn’t have a Lion, but he did have Atlas. He’d heard it talking to him in that first battle on Earth, the same way Black used to, right before it shifted. It was a long shot, but maybe…

He closed his eyes tightly, trying his best to block out Keith’s screaming as he mentally reached out for Atlas. The ship was far away, but he felt it stir in the back of his mind ever so slightly in response to his call.  _ Help me. I need help.  _

Atlas couldn’t come. It would take too long, and the sheer size of the ship made fighting only one person near impossible. Even so Shiro felt it reaching back for him. It couldn’t come here physically, but maybe it didn’t need to. 

He ground his teeth and poured every ounce of himself into his connection with Atlas. Atlas reached back, both of them straining, until their fingertips brushed. Everything flashed white.

He didn’t remember much after that.

Later Keith would tell him how Haggar had turned, how her face had drained of color. How Shiro’s eyes glowed white and he broke free of her magic with barely any effort at all. Then the fight. 

Both of them were a bit fuzzy on that. Keith had been in a haze of pain and adrenaline, still fighting that Galra side of him that didn’t have anywhere to go without something to hit. All Shiro could recall was flashes of white light against purple and black and the feeling of being indestructible. Of not fearing the witch any longer. Of starlight in his veins-- not so different than Black. 

Something he did remember was carrying Keith out, back to where they’d left the Black Lion to wait for the others to retrieve them. He remembered holding him, letting him hook his hands into the crevasses of his armor and hang on while his muscles jumped from aftershocks and growls tore from his throat unbidden. He remembered stroking his hair and telling him everything would be alright. 

He remembered the moment Keith finally went limp and the yellow faded from his eyes. 

Then it was blurry again with exhaustion, until he finally woke up the next day in a hospital bed with Keith in the one beside him, turned and his side and watching the same way he had when Haggar was torturing him, only this time with a huge grin on his face as he watched Shiro wake up. 

A few minutes later the rest of the team crashed into the room with flowers and food and hugs, and he knew everything would be ok. 


	12. All We Know Is Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith won't wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is relevant I swear. Also this is based on @callaeidae3's art on tumblr.

“Keith? Keith!”

He was flat out on the ground, limp and unmoving, sprawled on his back in the rubble. Shiro skidded on the pebbles and dust when he sprinted up, moving far too quickly, and slammed down hard on his knees at Keith’s side. 

“Keith, can you hear me?” He didn’t so much as stir, even when a bomb exploded deafening over their heads. Shiro threw himself over Keith to protect him from the falling debris and blanched at the close up view of his face. 

He was pale, red running from a cut on his forehead to mat in his eyebrow, but what really alarmed him was the cracks spider-webbing across his visor. Those helmets were Altean grade whatever-the-hell Alteans made armor from-- they didn’t break easily. Something sick settled in Shiro’s gut. 

When the sky was clear again Shiro rocked back on his heels. He reached for Keith first with his prosthetic, cringing when he realized the mistake, and peeled the glove from his left hand to feel for a pulse. 

He found one, to his relief. Strong and steady. But he was still unconscious, which never boded well. 

“Come on, Keith,” he murmured, licking his chapped lips. “Wake up.” He trailed his fingers over Keith’s neck, checking for swelling or broken bones, and when he didn’t find any he carefully pulled his torso up and into his lap. 

Removing the shattered helmet, he rested Keith’s head against his shoulder and brushed his bangs away from his forehead. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding steadily enough to concern him, so he pressed his glove against it and applied pressure. Keith didn’t react. 

“It’s gonna be ok,” whispered Shiro despite knowing Keith couldn’t hear him. With trembling fingers he activated the emergency beacon on his armor. The others would pick it up and come get them, and until then he’d keep Keith safe from the battle still raging all around them. 

“It’ll be fine, Keith. I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Static crackled in Shiro’s helmet before a voice began to speak to him from the comms. 

“Shiro, Keith’s signal activated.”

He swallowed before answering. “I know, Pidge. I’m with him.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Hit to the head. Doesn’t look too bad on the outside, but his visor’s cracked and he--” His voice stuttered, “He won’t wake up.”

Pidge swore under her breath. “Ok. Green and I are coming, ETA two doboshes.”

“Roger that.”

The comms went quiet and Shiro returned to keeping pressure on the cut. He was so still. Still like death, which is a thought he shoved away the moment he registered it. Keith wasn’t going to die. He was going to be fine. 

The jets of the Green Lion were almost upon them when Keith stirred a bit in Shiro’s hold, letting out a pitiful groan. He sounded like he was in pain, but Shiro couldn’t help but feel relieved. 

“You’re ok, Keith. You’re ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the shortest, vaguest thing I've ever written and I'm sorry but I have three and half hours left to do a lab and take a quiz and write an essay so here ya go don't kill me.


	13. 3 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being told off by Hunk, Lance does some introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to The Enemy of My Friend is... My Friend?

“Stupid Keith. Stupid Mullet. Stupid best pilot. Stupid stupid stupid.”

The thing was Lance knew nothing he’d said to Keith was true. He knew Keith was smart in his own right, even if Pidge and Hunk outshone him like they outshone everyone else. He knew Keith was the best pilot and Red had chosen him for that. Red was too picky and headstrong to take second best. But admitting that meant admitting he was better than Lance. And that was so not going to happen. 

He turned the corner and headed for the observation deck. It was late and the Castle was asleep-- he’d spent the rest of the afternoon brooding about what Hunk had said. 

He wasn’t being that mean… was he? Lance had despised bullies back on Earth and he despised them now-- a little teasing didn’t make him one… right? 

_ But is it really just teasing?  _ Asked a voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Hunk. He tried to push the thought away, but it dogged his heels all the way to the observation deck. 

The door to the deck slid open silently and he stepped inside-- only to freeze when he caught sight of the figure in red in front of the windows. 

_ Of course,  _ he thought bitterly as he turned on his heel.  _ He had to come and contaminate the one place that helps me feel better.  _

He was halfway through the door when he glanced back, just for a moment, and what he saw made him stop in his tracks.

There, in front of the enormous observation window, Keith looked small. The way he was sitting didn’t help; on the floor with his knees drawn to his chest. He’s not sure what, but something about the image made Lance pause and think. 

Even back at the Garrison Keith had been the solitary type. The kind of person who sat at the corner lunch table by himself, who preferred to stay in his desk and do the work alone when the instructor assigned groups, who slipped through the hallways without pausing to chat with anyone. So when this whole adventure started the idea of Keith living in the middle of nowhere with a conspiracy board hadn’t seemed noteworthy. It was in character for him. 

But now, in this random moment in the middle of the night, he was reevaluating. 

Had he ever seen Keith at any of the Garrison’s family visitation days? Had he ever spotted that familiar mop of hair at the arcade in town, or playing video games in the rec room, or leaning against a wall somewhere just talking? Before Voltron, had he even seen Keith smile beyond his ‘I’m-out-flying-everyone-and-I-know-it’ smirk? Had he ever seen him talk to anyone besides Shiro?

Back in reality, Keith sighed. 

“I know you’re there, Lance,” he said, making the Blue Paladin jump. “Let's just get this over with.”

“Get what over with?” He asked without thinking, still dazed by his sweeping revelations. He didn’t realize he was walking forward until he was halfway across the room. 

Keith didn’t turn to look at him. “Whatever rant you have prepared about me ‘stealing’,” he raised his hands to make sarcastic air-quotes, “Your best friend. Go on. I’m sure you have some lovely imagery and flattering comparisons in there too.”

Normally Lance would be offended. But this wasn’t normally. This was them, alone in the dark with no one watching but the stars, and all Lance could think about was how damn tired Keith sounded. Tired and sad. Resigned. 

Lance surprised both of them when he said, “I don’t have one.” He was standing at Keith’s side now, close enough to see his eyes widen. But just as quickly they shuttered again. 

“So what’s the plan? Ask me to spar so you can get a few free hits in?”

“No!” Lance exclaimed, horrified. He talked a lot of shit, but he never actually wanted to physically fight Keith. He was in the middle of opening his mouth to ask why he’d ever think such a thing when he remembered from years ago. Keith whirling on James Griffin and laying him out with one punch, not getting a single scratch on him, yet walking into class the next day covered in bruises. 

“No,” he repeated, quieter. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

This time Keith did look at him, surprised for just a moment before quickly looking away again. 

“Yeah, right,” said Keith with a scoff. “I’m sure Hunk didn’t guilt trip you into saying that. For the good of Voltron or whatever.”

God, it was like he didn’t even want Lance to be sorry. 

“Actually, I kind of guilt-tripped myself.” 

Keith frowned at the glass of the observation window. “What does that mean?”

Ha. As if Lance knew what he was saying right now. 

“Can I sit down?”

Keith blinked, as though not expecting to be asked for his preference, before giving a single nod and letting Lance take a seat next to him, cross-legged on the floor. 

Awkward silence fell between them as Lance drummed his fingers on his knee and tried to figure out what he was going to say. Keith was a ball of pure tension beside him, restrained and reserved the way he always was. Even with Shiro, he held pieces of himself back and out of reach. Behind walls where no one could hurt him. 

Lance cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about Red,” he began softly, “And the Garrison. It was mean.”

Keith’s expression gave nothing away, but all the same he murmured, “Thanks.”

“Sometimes I… I get so caught up in trying to prove myself and-- and feel like I belong that I forget you’re a person, and not just a target for my own made up rivalry.”

For some reason that made Keith smile. 

“You belong better than I do.”

It hurt, but only because it was true, and mostly Lance’s own doing.

“That’s kinda my fault too,” he admitted. Now it was his turn to avoid Keith’s gaze. “Pidge and Hunk really do want to know you better. I just keep ruining it because-- because--” The word was stuck in his throat; it took him several tries to get it out. “Because I get jealous. I know you’re cooler than me and I don’t want to lose them.”

Keith shook his head, looking baffled, and Lance didn’t blame him. What was it about three am on the observation deck that made him so self aware and honest? 

“Anyway, I’m sorry about it. I don’t want to be that kind of person, you know?”

Keith rested his chin on his folded arms, his gaze far away. 

“Yeah. I know.”

After a minute or two of more silence, Lance broke.

“This is weird,” he blurted out, and Keith frowned quizzically at him. 

“What is?”

“This!” He waved a hand between them. “In my family we never end a fight without hugging it out.”

“What?” Asked Keith, confused. “Why?”

“It’s… it’s just…” Lance gave an irritated growl and ran a hand through his hair. How was he supposed to explain this to an introvert like Keith?

“It’s like saying that no matter what we still care about each other. That even though we were mad we’re still a family.”

“Oh.” Keith blinked at him a few times before his cheeks dusted pink. “So, are you trying to say that you…”

Lance immediately recognized his misstep. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to! I know you’re not big on that sort of this, so if it makes you uncomfortable we don’t have to.”

But Keith said, “No, it’s ok,” and Lance’s jaw dropped. He was still looking away in embarrassment as he spoke. “I’m cool with it if you are, I just don’t want it to be awk-- hey!”

In the middle of his sentence Lance had latched onto him, wrapping his long arms around both his shoulders and his knees and squeezing. For a second Keith didn’t move. Then, slowly, his knees lowered and he leaned into it, one of his hands grasping at the hem of Lance’s jacket as though reaching for an anchor. 

“I really am sorry,” Lance murmured. He felt Keith’s sigh on his chest.

“I know you are.” 


	14. Guilty as Charged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More post-Galra reveal stuff because DreamWorks refuses to give us the good food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's repetitive as hell but this is what they requested ok let me live.

Things were a bit strange in the Castle at the moment. In fact, they’d been a bit strange and more than a little tense for the last week, ever since they’d made contact the Blade of Marmora. Three guesses as to why. 

Keith stayed in his room more often than not. Honestly Shiro couldn’t blame him, especially after the first day when Keith had asked Allura to pass something at the breakfast table and she’d snapped at him to call her Princess instead. The glare she’d given him could’ve withered plants, and it made Keith wilt in his seat. He didn’t look up or say anything for the rest of the meal, and he hadn’t been caught dead joining the team for mealtimes since. 

At least Shiro knew he was eating. He’d caught glimpses of him in the halls, slipping into the kitchen after everyone else had finished, and he hated it with a surprising passion. He knew how Keith’s life had been before the Garrison. He never wanted him to find himself in that position again-- sneaking around his own home, walking on eggshells around people who should’ve cared about him, ignoring the jokes and jabs from Hunk and Lance and the pointed silence and cold glares from Allura. 

Shiro had tried talking to him about it, but he slipped away every time and the last thing he wanted was to force Keith into talking when he didn’t want to, but honestly it was getting out of hand. All of this had to stop. He’d have a meeting with the other paladins, pin Allura down somewhere and not relent until she had some sense back in her brain, but before he could do any of that he had to make sure Keith knew he wasn’t alone. 

Shiro would never let him be alone again if he could help it. 

He finally managed to pin him down exactly a week after the trials, slipping back into his room after a training session. He waited a minute or two before knocking.

Keith’s sigh was audible through the door. “Come in.”

Keith was sitting on his bed when Shiro walked in, in the midst of taking off his boots, and he frowned when he looked up and saw who it was. 

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say,” he began, eyes darting away so that he didn’t see Shiro’s eyebrows rise. “And it’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to keep pretending. You can just ignore me when we’re not on missions and I’ll stay out of everyone’s way. I know how to be invisible.”

Shiro openly gaped at him. 

“Keith,” he gasped when he remembered how to breathe, “Keith, no, that’s not what I was going to say. Not even close!”

Keith’s expression visibly shuttered. Shiro had been making an attempt at comfort, but Keith’s mind seemed to have gone straight to the worst case scenario. 

“Oh,” he said in a flat voice. “So is this about Red? Does… does Allura want me to leave?”

Shiro didn’t even realize he was moving until he was beside Keith, dropping to sit on the bed beside him. Keith was a line of tension, completely unyielding, but Shiro reached out and pulled him into his side anyway. 

“No,” he murmured, his voice already sounding rough. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay right here, and I’m going to make sure everyone goes back to treating you like they should be. You’re not going to be invisible. You’re a part of this team.”

Keith sighed and it was the most forlorn sound Shiro had ever heard.

“I appreciate it, Shiro,” he murmured to the floor, “But really, it’s ok. I’m Galra. It would be better for everyone to have as little contact with me as possible. Especially you.”

_ “No.”  _ He hugged Keith tighter until he finally gave in and relaxed into the embrace, albeit reluctantly. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Keith. You’re not… you’re not dangerous, or--or inherently evil, or whatever else is going through your head right now. You are my  _ little brother  _ and I  _ love you.  _ Understand?”

That was a step too far, apparently, because Keith just burst into tears. Shiro held him close and gently rocked them, tears building in his own throat. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeated into Keith’s hair. “Nothing at all.” 


	15. You Had A Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is having a rough day, so Shiro takes him aside to find out why.

Something about today was odd, Shiro just couldn’t put his finger on it. Keith had been strangely quiet since the moment Shiro picked him up from his dorm room, and he’d barely eaten half his tray at breakfast. Shiro was prepared to be patient and let Keith figure himself out-- he was more than familiar with the concept of just a bad day when you woke up with the weight of everything on your shoulders-- but his mood only seemed to worsen as the day went on. 

He was sloppy in the simulator, taking more damage than necessary, and snippy with the commanding officers over the comms. Shiro ignored the looks he was getting from the other officers as long as he could, but two hours into their usual practice time Keith crashed. 

For the first time ever, Keith crashed the simulator. 

Alright, the time for patience was over. Something was  _ wrong.  _

Shiro drew him out into the hallway, an arm around the boys trembling shoulders. They were barely three steps out of the room before Keith jerked to a stop. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before Shiro could say anything. “I know I have to be better than that. I know they won’t keep me if I screw up. I’ll be better.”

That moment, as he gaped down at the cadet who wouldn’t meet his eyes, Shiro was harshly reminded of how long it had been since anyone had seen Keith as anything more than the sum of his failures. 

“That’s not what this is about,” he found himself saying, instinctively leading Keith over to a bench to sit down. The band on his wrist chimed and activated and his muscles jerked, but he paid it no mind. “I just want to know what’s wrong.”

Keith blinked a few times at the floor. “Huh?”

“You’ve seemed upset all morning. I’m wondering why.”

“... Oh. Sorry.”

Shiro shook his head, vexed. He needed to have a long conversation with everyone who’d taught Keith that he wasn’t worth caring about. 

“Don’t be sorry, Keith. I want to help.”

His shoulders hitched around his ears. Orange really wasn’t his color-- it made his already pale skin look even more washed out. Almost sickly. 

“It’s dumb. Don’t worry about it.”

“Too late, I’m already worried.”

Keith’s hands curled into fists in his slacks. Shiro could feel the familiar frustration roiling off of him; that clash between what he’d grown to expect from people and how Shiro acted. 

“It’s just… I already told you about what happened to my dad.”

Shiro nodded wordlessly. 

“It’s today. The anniversary. It’s been four years and I know I shouldn’t still be acting like this but… it’s hard.” His voice was nearly a whisper by the end and Shiro couldn’t help but pull Keith into a side hug, if only to keep his own heart from breaking. 

“It’s alright.” he murmured in a hoarse voice. “It’s ok to be sad, or angry, or hurt, or whatever you’re feeling right now. Grief doesn’t have a finish line. You might never stop feeling like this, and that’s ok.”

The only sound Keith made was a tiny sniffle, but when Shiro looked down his face was awash with tears. 

“Oh bud,” Shiro turned to pull Keith into a proper embrace, tucking that unruly mop of hair under his chin. His fists latched on, rumpling Shiro’s uniform and he didn’t even care. 

Keith cried silently but hard. Like he had to get it all before someone heard and made him stop. His back heaved, forcing out emotions that hadn’t been released in so long it had begun to hurt. 

Shiro threaded his fingers into Keith’s hair. There were knots and tangles he had to comb out; Keith never bothered to do much with it. He would’ve been perfectly content to go about his day without even brushing it if Shiro would let him. 

The motion was apparently soothing, as Keith slumped a bit more into Shiro’s arms. 

“‘M sorry,” Keith murmured oh-so-quietly against his chest.

“It’s ok, Keith. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this challenge, folks! Thanks to everyone who submitted a request. But never fear, I will be doing another daily event for January, so be prepared.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Can't Trust a Galra](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170820) by [SecretlyAnonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyAnonymous/pseuds/SecretlyAnonymous)




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